“I’m going to shot now. In your mouth.”

“I’m going to shot in your ass. I’m going to…”

It took me three times to realize it wasn’t lost in translation. ‘Shot’ meant ‘shoot’, and in his terms, it meant ejaculate. 

I dropped into a jungle where I didn’t know the rules. These people, these Koreans, weren’t like me. We might have the same skin color, but our different cultures ran deep.

This was also why they were an enigma. What I thought was normal was thrilling. Flashing in my low-cut blouses and showing my bra, speaking casually, laughing at some sarcastic remark, and roasting could insult them. 

“Is byeontae bad?” That was one of my ten questions when we began my Byeontae game. He was my first friend and the reason why I cheated on H. It was my first time dealing with a Fuckboy; too hot to resist. It was like having a Kpop star and chatting with him in person. His tattoo made it even harder to resist, and being new to the hunt, I didn’t know what a Fuckboy meant until it was too late.

Too late because I’d fallen in too deep, and my sins were too heavy to crawl out of the hole of my own making.

Curiosity killed the pussy. Thinking I was smart, creating a persona, a sexy game, and a world where I thought no one would know me.

I asked Fuckboy for his name. He said I didn’t need to know. I thought he was trying to save me from lying, but later, I realized it was because he knew the game of play. It was better not to tell who you were. Fucked her and dropped her.

I told him I was going to tell my husband. In all my naiveté, I knew what I had done was wrong and wanted to come clean. The thrill was exhilarating, but I always knew the consequences I had to bear.

“Why?” His voice dropped from his usual smoothness. “He doesn’t need to know.”

“Are you afraid he’d be mad?” I said.

“Of course…don’t tell him.”

“I want to.”

“I don’t think it is a good idea…”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t like keeping secrets from him.” 

I had my fun and knew I had to pay the price. Our marriage would face this test. I won’t deny I played with a stranger. I cheated on my husband because the allure of something sexy and different was too much to resist. Over the twenty years, I hid who I was and the truth. 

I was a succubus.

Forced into hiding. Forced to face the reality of living. Earning our keep, getting the residency card I needed to stay in this country not of my birth. To start a family and build that family up. The lives of others were constantly placed before mine. 

I needed a break. For once, I wanted to be selfish. To do something I wanted, to be happy for myself.

Perhaps I knew something was strange about our couple's relationship. Maybe it was the moment my husband wanted to film us having sex. It was years before this day of confession, and H whispering what he did with those vids he took of me giving him blow jobs, of us having sex thrilled him when we were doing it.

“Do you know what they said? Your wife is very hot. Her moans are very sexy…,” H said.

“No…you didn’t do it…” I was worried at first. How could he post our secret sex vids up for strangers to look at?

“Where did you post our vids? Did they see my face?” I was horrified. At that time was — “Was he posting them as revenge porn? Did I do something wrong?”

"You have twenty-seven thousand views. Seven thousand fans,” he said. And that was a count he confessed more than a year ago.

“Where did you post the vids? How many did you post?” I was scared. But as he kept telling and we kept having sex, the idea of being shown around got appealing. I began to love the idea of strange men watching me having sex. Their horny, sexual high became my high. I wanted to hear more, wanted to know what vids H had used, and imagined those men jerking off to us made me excited. I began to perform, making my moans louder, timing them better, and wearing more sexy outfits.

I googled for those sex vids because H wouldn’t tell me. That morbid need to find them made me search all day, using words like — BBW, Asian milf, and Asian blowjob wife. But of course, I couldn’t find them. The net was vast, and holes buried with secrets were deep.

And so when I confessed to H, I partially thought this online play could be something he might in some remote way accept. In my need to find reason, I tried to think this act of betrayal wouldn’t be as bad because the guy wasn’t here. I didn’t even know his name.

“I’m disappointed,” H said.

“You’re not angry?” I asked.

“I’m sad you did it but I know why…”

The why was partly obvious. The health scare we went through earlier in the year didn’t hit home till eleven months later.

I could have died. It didn’t excuse my online affair, but it did give me a reason to experience the things I never would be able to do.

H and I spent the whole week after my confession talking. Stayed in our room, on our bed, opening up about everything that haunted us, both secret and withheld, always afraid of burdening each other. Our grievances and hurt rehashed, and open wounds slashed again, only to be built back.

If you asked me, looking back, what I felt I gained from our openness, I’d say more fun sex, yes, but close to first was the revelation of H and I.

We opened everything. Unafraid to say what was on our minds. What we meant to each other and what we wanted in our lives moving forward. We talked about finding other sex partners and started chatting about who was fuckable or not among our friends and the sex lives of people around us.

A year later, here H and I were. The road was bumpy as hell, and we had our fights. The rules were unclear and written in tears, but a few things became clear. 

I was H’s Hotwife.

I was also a cougar, Milf, and hunter. 

“No. Byeontae is okay,” Fuckboy replied. “But Korean girls don’t show their byeontae side because of our culture.”

Yes, I was different from these girls. Or maybe they were just better at hiding it.

“Do you see girls here?” I asked one of the guys I met on Ometv.

“Yes. I chatted with them. Korean girls,” He replied.

“Really?”

My hunt was on. Pretending to be a guy and hiding in the scenes like some of them do. Finding those elusive Korean girls. Wanting to ask them if they’d play my Byeontae game with me. I didn’t like girls sexually, but I’m curious what they thought.

How shy were they about sex? I wanted to prove Korean guys were as normal as any guy anywhere. Those Korean girls couldn’t be those shy, silly, innocent women that drama portrayed.

Okay, I admit. Corruption was the goal. I was ready to turn everyone into horn dogs and bitches. Sex made us open. To face who we were.

And I found them — those few girls. Many skipped me when I popped my head out and revealed I wasn’t a guy. I met two Korean girls who stayed to talk. 

One was an innocent-looking girl who seemed fresh out of or still in high school. The mommy in me wanted to tell her to get off this app. Though Korean, she was from Uzbekistan and only spoke Uzbek and English. Such a cute girl, and before we could speak more, the screen skipped.

The second girl I met smoked cigarettes like a chimney. We made plans to meet offline on Insta, but she ghosted me as many did soon after. Ghosting fucking sucked and my bruised and burned heart kept going because as H said, “You wanna play, you gotta steal that heart.”

One, two, three shot.

The percentage of horn dogs with shaking dicks on Ometv was 50:50. 

“You don’t want to be here. There are many dirty guys here,” said one kind soul.

“Oh really?” I smiled with my shades on. In the beginning, this virtual chat app was my haunt. I was on about an average of two/three times a week, fishing one to two guys a day and having vid sex and orgasming at least once with each guy or more. The numbers were insane, and at some point, I stopped virtual body counting. 

This was good practice. I had my performance down, and sex was a perpetual high. I was shedding away my shyness, building my fetish, flashing my body in the light of day. I was embracing the truth of who I was. 

Succubus. Sucking the youth. At that time, my range was 25-35. Eating their cocks. Slurping the essence as we imagined fucking in real life. Cumming separately, cumming together, and doing the dance of virtual sex.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I asked one time when I was orgasming to a guy watching. He was jerking off as far as I could tell with his hand below the screen. His face was pained. 

“Where are you going?” I asked.

The video of his face turned black, and I heard his scrambling. 

“Hello?” I stopped and pulled my dildo out, waiting and panting after my performance.

A text came after. “I underestimated the power of vid sex.” 

“What do you mean?” I texted back.

“I had to go to the toilet,” he replied.

I laughed so hard my sides hurt. “You should have shown me. I love watching men cum.”

“It’s my first time…” he said. Though I couldn’t see him, I felt his embarrassment.

“It was fun wasn’t it?” I asked.

“Yeah…”

Almost everyone had not done this before. I had to explain or show it to them. I was proud of deflowering their virtual sex experience. I wondered if that was how Fuckboy felt when he introduced vid sex to me. 

The power of owning another. Showing the innocent leads the way to this amazing high. 

“Why are you wearing sunglasses?” Back to the kind soul on Ometv. He was a hot guy with tinted brown hair. A story would come later about him. He regretted that, to this day, I felt, and I wondered if he thought about me as I did him. 

“Because I don’t want to be recorded,” I said, studying him behind his hand hiding part of his face.

“Why would anyone record you?” He tilted his head. 

I laughed. Giggled hard with my hand over my mouth.

Because, even with cool shades on, no one knew. In my zipped hoodie and friendly face, I was a contradiction. Under my hoodie, I wore black laced lingerie, heavy breasts perked, ready to play. 

“Do you want to play a Byeontae game?” I asked. Forget Korean. Sex spoke all languages, and big boobies were the currency exchanged.

Fun was just a zip away. The horny tank had to be filled. Fishes cummed, and fishes go. 

One, two, three shot.

Watching it squirt. Thick and white, just the way I liked it.